


go with grace

by codenametargeter



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Canon Compliant, Crimson Flower Route, Dimilix Week (Fire Emblem), M/M, it's a sad song it's a tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-15 17:48:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29439993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/codenametargeter/pseuds/codenametargeter
Summary: There was a plan and the plan is why Felix has led soldiers from Arianrhod to bolster Fhirdiad's defense. But the Empire isn't striking at the capital next and Felix is not pleased with his new orders.Written for Dimilix Week 2021 Day 1: Defeat
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Felix Hugo Fraldarius
Comments: 8
Kudos: 24
Collections: 2021 Dimilix Week





	go with grace

**Author's Note:**

> HAPPY DIMILIX WEEK! (why are we starting with angst?????)

The absolute last thing Felix wants to do today is sit in a tent in the middle of the goddess damned woods as a part of an impromptu war council. He’s spent the last week traveling at a painfully glacial pace and he’s tired. Armies move slowly and for some stupid reason, his father had tasked him with delivering the Fraldarius soldiers to the capital in anticipation of the Imperial army attacking there next. In truth, he hadn’t argued all that much; he’s been away for months now. He’d only offered up the most token of grumbled protests at the king for coming to meet them away from the city. Stupidly, he’d thought that meant Dimitri had missed him too and that when he’d directed him to walk into a tent, it had been to express exactly how much he’d missed him.

Instead, Felix got a war council.

He’d rather sleep.

This entire discussion has felt pointless because they all _know_ what the problem is. It’s Edelgard and she’s coming for them next now that the Alliance has folded like a deck of cards. Everyone sitting inside this tent already knows they need to fortify Fhirdiad before she turns her attention towards them. It doesn’t need a debate but they’re talking about it anyways so Felix settles on folding his arms across his chest and glaring the entire time which in turn means Gilbert spends a significant portion of it shooting him looks that say he wishes Felix would stop. That’s Annette’s father’s problem though, not his. Maybe if they weren’t wasting time discussing things they already know, he wouldn’t be sitting here glaring. 

“Your Majesty!” As one, they all turn to look at the breathless soldier who shoves his way into the tent, dropping down to one knee. “Your Majesty, an urgent message from the front!” 

It’s Dedue who rises to his feet to take the upraised scroll and hands it to the king. Dimitri’s face is impassive except for the storm in his blue eyes as he reads the tattered parchment and then hands it back. “Fhirdiad is not Her next target.” 

No one present needs to ask who _Her_ is. Sylvain asks the question they all do need answered instead. “Where?”

“Arianrhod,” Dedue says as calmly as their king.

The sound of his chair hitting the ground is the first sign Felix has that he’s risen to his feet. “That’s not possible.”

The taller man extends the parchment to him. “The scouts seem sure.”

Felix barely looks down at it long enough to confirm they’d both spoken true before turning away again, hands curling into fists as the rest of the room dissolves into a flurry of conversation that he barely hears. Arianrhod. The city he’s just left behind. The city he’s just taken a third of the Fraldarius soldiers from to bolster the capital. 

“Then we should send Felix.”

His head snaps up. “What.” 

Gilbert keeps talking as if he hasn’t heard. “And some of the soldiers, of course.”

“We’ve been traveling for a week to get here,” Felix says. “The battle will be long over by the time we get there.” 

“A small group can travel faster than an army.”

“Gilbert is right. Rodrigue must be warned,” Dimitri says, anger simmering behind his steady words. “The Fortress City must stand strong if Faerghus is to endure.”

Felix whirls around to face him. “A scout would have gone to Arianrhod too. He’ll already know.” 

There are many days when there is no point in trying to argue with the man known as the Tempest King (although it certainly has never stopped Felix from trying) and today appears to be one of them. “I will not keep an unparalleled warrior such as yourself from your father’s side for a battle such as this.” 

“No,” Felix says, forgetting they’re not alone. “You’d just send me from yours.” 

He doesn’t give anyone a chance to say anything, instead storming out of the tent, accidentally clipping the messenger with his shoulder and not pausing to mutter an apology. There’s no reason to stay when he already knows what everyone will say. He doesn’t want to see in their eyes the thoughts they don’t voice. He does not want to suffocate on that air.

Felix doesn’t go far from the tent and instead paces back and forth only a few meters away. The war council doesn’t linger inside much longer: the king has made his decision. It’s only a handful more minutes before people begin to exit. A few of them give him sidelong looks but he ignores them and continues to mark his path. Four steps one way, pivot, four steps the other way, pivot, repeat. Sylvain looks as if he wants to stop and say something but instead shakes his head and continues on his way. 

Unsurprisingly, it’s Dedue and Dimitri who walk out of the tent together last, still in conversation. He knows it’s rude but Felix plants himself in their path, glaring up at their king and says, “You’re a fucking idiot.” 

Dedue’s expression is as stern and unyielding as ever. “Felix, this is not the time to--”

“What other time is there?”

Dimitri extends his arm between them. “Enough. I would not have you two at odds like this. Disharmony between us only aids the Empire.”

“He’s not the one I have a problem with right now,” Felix says without blinking or even looking at Dedue.

“Then let us have this conversation in private,” says Dimitri, taking his bicep in hand tightly enough that Felix doesn’t even bother trying to yank himself free. (It’s definitely not because he likes how it feels to have Dimitri’s hands upon him.) He vaguely registers Dimitri saying, “If you’ll excuse us for the time being, Dedue,” and the other man bowing in reply before he’s being manhandled through the camp and towards the woods as the sun begins to set. 

Once they’re far enough away from the camp to pretend at privacy, Felix puts up a token struggle. “Get off of me.” 

Almost immediately, Dimitri lets go but doesn’t step away from him. “You disagree with my decisions today.” 

“You’re sending me away.” The words are barely out of his mouth before he regrets them and how petulant they sound. “Any messenger could go but you send me.”

“You’re hardly just a messenger. A mere messenger would not have your talent with a sword.” 

The flattery only serves to piss Felix off even more and he steps forward, invading Dimitri’s personal space. “Don’t change the subject. You write to me. Say you want me here at your side for the end. And then you do this. So explain yourself.”

“It is like I said: Arianrhod must stand and I trust you to see it done,” Dimitri says, a hint of darkness slipping into his voice as he advances, making Felix unconsciously step backwards again and then again. “And there are few people I trust left in this world.” 

As Felix’s back hits a tree, his body, caught between it and the muscles of Dimitri’s, betrays him as his breath hitches. He pretends neither of them know what it means like they haven’t been here many a time before and instead snaps, “That’s the worst line you’ve ever used on me, boar.” 

He doesn’t flinch at the term like he might once have back when they were both still at Garreg Mach and a continent-spanning war was a concept, not their reality. “You should know me well enough to know it is not a line, Felix.”

Felix is mad but he’s also only human and it’s been four months and so he grabs the edges of Dimitri’s cloak to yank him closer so he can rise up on his toes and finally kiss him for the first time since he left Fhirdiad. There’s no delay before Dimitri kisses him back, his hands coming to settle on Felix’s hips as he presses him back against the tree. Only the thick quilted material of his coat stops him from the bark digging into him. He hates that he loves how roughly, how possessively Dimitri kisses him where anyone could walk by and see. There are days where he questions _why_ he does this, why he loves him even when he shouldn’t but then Dimitri kisses him like this and all those questions vanish from his mind. 

“This doesn’t make it better,” Felix says once their lips part. He lets his heels drop so he’s standing firmly on the ground again. It has yet to stop being annoying how much Dimitri’s grown over the last few years while he’s remained an irritatingly average height. 

“You give yourself too little credit,” says Dimitri as he moves so he isn’t pressing Felix against the tree anymore. His hands stay where they are. “You are worth at least a dozen soldiers on the field of battle. The Fraldarius and the Galatea soldiers posted there will listen to you and obey your commands.”

He shifts uneasily, releasing his grip on the cloak. “I’m not a general.” 

“No, but you are the king’s shield.”

Scoffing, Felix says, “That’s my old man’s title, not mine.” 

Dimitri tilts his head. “Is it?” There is nothing he can say to that so instead, Felix looks away and down at the ground. Dimitri continues, “I meant what I wrote to you, Felix: I have missed you every day since you went south. There is no one I would rather have by my side to halt Her path of destruction.” 

He slips out from between Dimitri and the tree, unable to take the feeling of being trapped any longer. Leaning into anger instead, Felix plants his hands on his hips. “Well. Here I am.” 

“Here you are,” Dimitri agrees, nodding once. “But now Arianrhod needs you more. There is little I can do to strengthen its defenses as I cannot return these soldiers in time to make a difference but you… I can send you to hold it for me.” 

Felix presses because that’s what he does. “Is that your _command_ , Your Majesty? That I go there?”

Dimitri holds his gaze for a long moment before at last he nods. “Yes, Felix. It is.” 

It is rare that Dimitri does something like this especially with him. Back when he was still himself, before he was the boar, he hated using his princely title to get others to do as he wished. Even now, as king, there feels like a distinction between the orders he gives the troops and royal commands. Or at least Felix feels as if there is a distinction and the weight hangs heavily over him now, pushing down upon his shoulders so that he bends forward into a low bow, gritting his teeth. “Your Majesty.”

He doesn’t wait for an acknowledgement before straightening back up again, spinning on his heel, and stalking away. The last few rays of daylight fade into darkness as he makes his way back into camp and becomes just another face amongst the soldiers. Sylvain finds him but wisely does not bring up anything from before as they eat dinner together besides a fire. Instead, he asks after Ingrid and passes along inane gossip from Fhirdiad; something Felix would usually hate but is grateful for now. 

Two hours pass before Felix rises to his feet and Sylvain does the same. He squeezes his shoulder, smiles, and then walks off without another word. As far as farewells like these go, it’s the sort Felix prefers and yet, his feet take him not in the direction of his own gear but instead towards the king’s tent. He’s never been able to stay away from him for long. Not really.

Dimitri’s head is bent over a pile of parchment, propped up by one hand while the other one clutches a quill. He looks tired, far more tired than he had in the light of day. The last five years have weighed heavily upon them all but they have aged Dimitri more than any of them. Felix lingers in the doorway, tent flap still clutched in one hand, until finally, he clears his throat. Instantly, Dimitri’s head jerks up. “Felix! I did not think to see you again tonight.”

He steps the rest of the way inside, letting the flap flutter down to close behind him. “I leave for Arianrhod at dawn. As you command.” 

“As I command,” Dimitri murmurs more than says, setting his quill down and rising to his feet. “If our enemy fought plainly and gave us any other option…”

“They tried to recruit me, you know.” At Dimitri’s look of confusion, Felix says, “The Professor. Byleth. They asked me to join their class three times over the year but I always said no.”

Dimitri’s eyebrows raise. “Surely you were interested?”

“Yes.”

“Then why stay?”

“Because someone needed to keep an eye on you,” Felix says, tone harsh. “I couldn’t do that from the Black Eagles.” 

His face is unreadable as he asks, “And? Was it worth it?”

How? How can he answer a question like that? “I’m still here, aren’t I? Here and in your bed when you feel like it. Until you send me off to fight a battle we will not win.”

“Felix, you must know that I l--”

They do not use a certain word between them. It was not by any sort of verbal agreement but rather a silent one. Felix cannot bear to hear it now and so he snaps, “Stop. Don’t you dare say it. Not now. You’re not the king I wanted to die for but you’re the king I’m going to die for anyways.”

“Felix…”

“Don’t.” Felix spits the word out. “Just don’t.”

He doesn’t know why he’s here. Maybe a part of him wanted to set things right between them before he marches off to his likely death. He does not want to die with a command as the last words between them but this doesn’t seem much better. 

No. That’s a lie. Felix knows full well why he is here. Yes, it is because he did not want those to be the last words between them but it is also because Felix Fraldarius has always been weak where Dimitri Blaiddyd is concerned and so when Dimitri takes his hand in his and draws him close, Felix kisses his king once more. He wants to lose himself in the feeling of Dimitri’s lips on his and the sensation of his hands roaming freely, almost possessively over his body. And he does. But not how he meant. Because Felix can think of nothing but the words he just said and what might have been or how things should have been. For a moment, he lets himself pretend that world he dreams about is theirs. There is no war and his king is not haunted by his demons and cold like the Faerghan winter. Dimitri is the sort of king he always talked of being when they are children: someone who cares for his people and who puts protecting them before everything, including a blinding need for revenge. There is no war and they are happy. 

But he cannot remain there forever. 

Felix opens his eyes as they pull apart and the world they live in now comes rushing back. He can do nothing but stare into Dimitri’s brilliant blue eyes, losing himself in them.

Finally, Dimitri clears his throat and says, “Stay here tonight? With me?”

“Why?” Felix asks even though the underlying invitation is there. 

“Because I don’t want us to be alone.”

There’s another moment’s hesitation before Felix nods his consent and Dimitri wraps his arms around him, drawing him into a kiss and then towards his bed. 

But in the end, nothing can stop the inevitable. For Felix, it is at the gates of Arianrhod and for Dimitri, it is on the rainy plains of Tailtean.

What they are is alone.

**Author's Note:**

> okay, going back to Azure Moon now BYE
> 
> (also I'm not sorry for the Hadestown reference)


End file.
